HARPER
Nerves as ramped up as they are, it's impossible for Harper to miss the brief hesitation as the man registers his name. It's far too familiar, calling back to days of concealing his name, of hiding behind an alias kept secret at any and all costs. Only further amplified when the beast of a man turns and confirms in the rolling depths of his thunderous voice that he has heard of Harper. It takes a concentrated effort to remind himself to breathe once he realizes his lungs are beginning to burn. No matter the perfectly neutral expression he keeps out of habit beaten and burned into his brain, you can't conceal holding your breath. It's probably just because of Kiada. It's fine.
At least the question posed helps reel him back from that dark ledge of memories. Something tangible to focus on and reach for. "Blades of any sort, batons, and bows are what I often preferred that would be available here...I'm adept at hand-to-hand as well." So much of his previous arsenal had been technologically advanced, but even the basics translate. In his time as an assassin blades and daggers had been preferred for their ability to silently dispatch targets. At the prospect of a spar his entire frame goes loose, as if it's some sort of Pavlovian response to become fighting ready when the word is said. An eager light comes to his eyes but Harper at least manages to fight down the full grin he wants to give. "Any time. If I'm not disrupting of course." He'd kind of shoved himself into the man's day after all.
At least the question posed helps reel him back from that dark ledge of memories. Something tangible to focus on and reach for. "Blades of any sort, batons, and bows are what I often preferred that would be available here...I'm adept at hand-to-hand as well." So much of his previous arsenal had been technologically advanced, but even the basics translate. In his time as an assassin blades and daggers had been preferred for their ability to silently dispatch targets. At the prospect of a spar his entire frame goes loose, as if it's some sort of Pavlovian response to become fighting ready when the word is said. An eager light comes to his eyes but Harper at least manages to fight down the full grin he wants to give. "Any time. If I'm not disrupting of course." He'd kind of shoved himself into the man's day after all.
Pain is a well-intentioned weatherman
Predicting God as best he can
Predicting God as best he can
